


Lonely

by CelesteFitzgerald



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: George wishes he could hug Ringo.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	Lonely

George lay in bed, desperately clutching the long pillow by his side. His legs hugged it tight as his fingers twisted into the pillowcase. The material was soft against his skin as he buried his face in it, the warmth of his breath bouncing back at him each time he exhaled.

It was supposed to be comforting.

So how come George was still wide awake from thinking about how the squishiness of the pillow didn’t feel nearly as safe as Ringo’s bony legs tangling with his? Or how the smoothness of the fabric wasn’t as familiar as the tickling of Ringo’s hair?

Or how the warmness of his own breath was suddenly overpowered by the dampness from his tears?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _right_.

George missed him. He missed him so much. But Ringo needed to be at the hospital for several more days to recover from his surgery. Of course, George had been visiting him every day, but what was the point of returning home at the end of the visit if Ringo wasn’t coming home with him?

George sighed, then bit his lip to try to stop his breaths from shaking so much. He was just being a baby. What kind of person couldn’t make it a few hours without hugging their boyfriend?

More tears rolled from George’s eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut to block them. He kept his eyes closed tight until he began to see pinpricks of light. It wasn’t real light, though—the world around him was still painfully dark.

George was quite familiar with what _real_ light was. He saw it every time he looked at Ringo’s face.

The darkness of George’s eyelids faded away as a glowing image of Ringo appeared in his mind. Ringo’s brilliant blue eyes stared back at George’s—god, George could get lost in those eyes for hours. But tonight, it wasn’t just Ringo’s eyes that George found himself missing. He missed all the little details that were slipping from his memory with the distance.

Squeezing his eyes and the pillow tighter, George tried to remember everything. He wanted to remember the sound of Ringo’s laugh, and the shape of his lips. To remember every little crease and wrinkle that appeared when he smiled, even the creases that stretched down to his chin because his smile was just that darn big. And the perfectly imperfect way that some of his teeth were slightly crooked, making him look even more adorable than he already was—

 _Oh_.

As George stared at the portrait of Ringo in his mind, tracing each feature with his gaze, he realized that he hadn’t forgotten anything after all. The vision of Ringo was so complete and in such high resolution that it almost felt like Ringo was right there with him.

And in a way, Ringo _was_ with him. He was there in the way that George found the strength to wipe away his tears, and he was the reason that George began to smile against the pillow that still smelled faintly of Ringo’s hair. George vowed to thank him for it when he saw him in the morning. But for now, George let out a yawn, holding the pillow close as sleep finally overtook him.


End file.
